( via / via )

Interesting pulsating spiraley thing.

"MY BODY IS AN ECO-SYSTEM

Down to a stick of gum someone
spat out on a sidewalk. My body is a courtyard
of blooms in Spring. My body is a vintage gas station,
smelling of diesel oil. Or a lonely landlady
in a nightgown washed too many times. My body
is a rainy night in Pittsburgh, a city
of taxicab horns. My body is an inferno
of other people’s grief. Invaded by a boss
with clammy hands, my body is a plantation.
My limbs are a painter’s studio of colored rags,
a wall of tears in brushstrokes. My body has been
leased and swindled. Has waited in offices, feet
cold on stirrups. My body has been evicted, sprayed,
cropped, graphed, subjugated, interrupted, terrorized.
My body has flown out of conversations on parachutes.
Has sometimes had to leap from buildings.
My body has been tendered by soft hands.
My body is a sanctuary. A dictionary, a long hallway.
I never knew my tireless vessel had this many rooms."

--Cynthia Atkins in Ghost City Review

Track Up to War Hill.

"Dark matter" is just rebranded phlogiston. Something is wrong with the way they're doing the math.

"We know Oko was a very committed collector of spinozana, with many 17th- and 18th-century manuscripts and books in his collection. But it's unclear what the particular path is of this mask to his collection."